


Demons, Desires, and Dark Sides

by blackglass



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Fluff and Smut, F/M, Kink Meme, POV Alternating, Possession
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-09-08 01:25:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8824579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackglass/pseuds/blackglass
Summary: Written for the kink meme prompt:

  Orthax figures out at some point that the best way to corrupt Percy further is to offer him something that he wants even more than revenge -- Vex. 


  And though it starts as just a means to an end for Orthax, the demon finds himself desiring her just as much as his host.


  Vex has no idea why Percy switches from sweet and caring to darkly possessive, back and forth, while they are having sex, but she's into both versions.


  (Bonus: Orthax is secretly still around when the confrontation with Saundor happens, and completely loses his shit with jealousy and rage after Saundor makes his offer to Vex.)





	1. Orthax

“ _Look me in the eye, Percy_.”

The half-elven woman--Vex’ahlia--looks his host over, eyes steely and penetrating. Orthax cares little for most of this human’s companions, but this one...this one intrigues him. Not least because she has Percival quite under her thumb and is utterly unaware of the power she holds over him.

Orthax watches from behind Percival’s eyes as he struggles to meet Vex’ahlia’s gaze, feels Percival’s heart speed faster, his breath quicken, his skin prickle at her proximity. Orthax catalogues the familiar sensations impassively. This is what they call “attraction,” he observes, or more specifically, “lust.” Percival experiences it often enough in her presence. 

Orthax takes a moment to consider. 

He supposes she’s comely enough. He’s possessed enough humanoids to know that she’d be considered attractive by their standards--she certainly meets his host’s criteria. But that’s not what draws Orthax to her.

It’s the fierce intelligence in those snapping brown eyes. (Orthax has no use for dullards. It’s why he chose this particular prey, of course. Yes, the gaping wounds of grief and vulnerability in Percival’s psyche were what first caught his attention, but all that destructive genius? All that awful creative potential? How could he have resisted?)

It’s that edge of ruthlessness in her, the one that comes flaring to the forefront as she haggles, wheeling and dealing and talking circles around her victims until she emerges victorious, smirking and satisfied. (It should go without saying, but Orthax cannot help but appreciate one so accomplished in the art of making deals.) 

It’s those fascinating hints of darkness in her, the minute cracks in her facade offering teasing glimpses of the roiling insecurities and clawing hunger she normally keeps hidden under layers of bravado. (She hides it quite well. No one else seems to see it, save Percival--who only notices because he too relies on hiding behind a mask--and of course, Orthax, who specializes in creeping into the chinks in one’s armor.)

Honestly, it’s that last bit that’s so enticing to him. Orthax so _loves_ the broken ones. He delights in poking at all their weak spots, testing their defenses until he finds the fulcrum point, the crack at which he can dig in, providing just enough leverage so that they open for him, so trusting and desperate. 

Percival had barely been a challenge at all. He’d practically thrown open the door and laid down the welcome mat for Orthax, and then fairly forgotten about him for 3 whole years. But this woman...he had the feeling she’d be an _interesting_ challenge.

Right now though, she was a threat. She had an unfortunate knack for pulling Percival back from the brink of unfettered violence and he was far too eager to please her. Orthax would not suffer another pulling the strings of his puppet. 

But perhaps...perhaps this was an opportunity. 

The endgame was so close that Orthax could _taste_ it, his hunger intensifying even as his patience grew short. But even so, Orthax understood the value of playing the long game--the importance of contingency plans, the advantages of misdirection, the usefulness of hideaways from which he could not easily be purged. His host’s companions were growing ever more suspicious and it was only a matter of time before the truth would out. It might even come to a direct confrontation. He was dangerous, but even he could recognize that 7 against 1 were not great odds. 

Should he be defeated, let them think they’d vanquished him for good. He could bide his time, hunkering deep within his vessel. He’d done it before. 

But maybe this time, instead of stoking the fires of Percival’s vengeance, Orthax might instead fan the flames of his lust. 

(It would be _so easy_. Percival’s imagination is _quite_ vivid and his fantasies shame him so much that he does his level best to shove them down into the deepest, darkest parts of himself, convinced as he is that he is unworthy of her affections.

Orthax _is_ Percival’s deepest, darkest parts.)

It would be so poetic if Percival’s weakness for her turned out to be the engineer of his downfall. If his hunger for her were the vehicle through which Orthax would eventually devour them both.

Well, no time like the present to start laying the groundwork for his retreat.

They would never see him coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This prompt straight up _walloped_ me in the id, WELL DONE ANON. I've got this plotted up to ep 64-ish, so buckle up for the long haul, kids! 
> 
> Title (and recommended listening if you want an EXCELLENT Perc'ahlia song) from "Never Look Away" by Vienna Teng.


	2. Percy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That Scene from Ep 31: The Gunpowder Plot

“I feel...cruel,” Percy admits. “But in control. This is...controllable at the moment.” 

He’s lying, but he isn’t. He is in control--but only just barely. And he’s not sure how long he can keep a hold on his already tenuous self-restraint, not when she’s _this close_. 

Because he doesn’t just feel cruel. He feels like he wants to...to _eat her alive_. 

And if it sounds horrifying, it’s because he _feels_ horrifying. He’s no stranger to wanting Vex; he’s imagined having her in just about every way you can imagine, but he’s never felt this… _unhinged_ before. His hands tremble with a desperate, almost violent urge to haul her up against him, to bury themselves in the dark fall of her hair. He wants to crush his mouth to hers and steal the breath from her lungs, strip her of her armor and clothes until she’s bare beneath him, wanting and writhing and his for the taking--

He wrenches his focus back into the moment before he can follow that train of thought to its inevitable conclusion, because she’s still here, still _looking_ at him, her gaze piercing through him and he’s almost convinced she knows exactly what he’s imagining. The thought makes his blood run cold. It’s one thing for him to know it, but for her to look at him and see exactly the kind of monster he is...

“I’m fine, for now. I’ll let you know if--you’ll know if I’m not,” he continues, trying to keep his voice as level as possible. It quivers, despite his best efforts.

Her eyes narrow. “I will.” She fists the hand she’s been restraining him with into his lapel and drags him down until they’re eye-to-eye. “I do. Which is how I know you’re lying right now, Percival. So I’ll ask you one more time: _are you all right?_ ”

_She ought not to have done that_ , Percy thinks distantly. If he thought she was too close before, she’s _definitely_ too close right now. Her face is all that fills his vision: the dark wings of her brows drawn together in concern, her eyes fierce, cheeks flushed, and her lips so red and lush and _tempting_.

Percy _wants_.

Time seems to stretch and slow. Sound fades and a curious feeling steals over him, cresting over the rising tide of arousal. He doesn’t know how to describe it exactly. It feels like...like the instant before freefall, that swooping, trembling moment of uncertainty before it all crystallizes and there’s nothing left but the forward momentum, the point of no return.

_She’s yours. Take it, Percival._

The world speeds back up. The wave crashes. The last flimsy thread of his self-control snaps and Percy surges forward, mouth crashing into hers. He dimly registers Vex’s squeak of surprise, the way she stiffens as he pushes one hand into the thick cloud of her hair, gripping the back of her head and tilting her face back as he presses his advantage. His other arm bands around her waist, pulling her into him, the hand she had fisted in his coat trapped between their bodies. She’s frozen in his arms, not yielding to his assault, but not resisting either. 

He should stop. A part of him knows he should stop. She didn’t ask for this, the memories of grateful chaste pecks on the cheek aside. He is a thief, the worst kind of blackguard, and _he can’t stop_. Not now that he knows what it’s like to have her in his arms, her body pressed to his. Not now that he knows how the silken strands of her hair feel tangled in his fingers, the sensation rivaled only by the plushness of her lips against his own. 

He really is a monster.

And then she comes to sudden blazing life in his embrace. She surges up to meet him with a muffled groan, mouth parting under his to kiss him back hungrily, the fingers of her free hand tunneling into the strands at the back of his head as if to keep him from pulling away. _As if he would_. He feels an answering groan rumble in his chest, and his hands--as if assured that she’ll stay right where she is and they no longer need to hold her in place--begin traveling ceaselessly over her, unable to settle, so greedy to memorize the feel of her. 

Vex’s hands are busy as well, cupping his neck one moment, clutching at his shoulders the next, sliding over his chest, his back, fisting in his coat to drag him closer, _closer_. Sweet gods, there’s nothing else he wants more, but the difference in their heights makes it difficult. Vex is by no means a small woman, but he stands a good half foot taller than her and the angle at which he has to lean down to meet her, even on her tiptoes, is starting to get uncomfortable. 

This won’t do.

He snags the backs of her thighs and lifts her without warning, turning to press _her_ into the wall this time. She pulls away from his mouth to let out a gasp at the sudden change in position. He pins her there with his hips and chases her lips, unwilling to be parted from them for a second longer than necessary. 

She welcomes his kiss with an approving purr, tightening her legs around him to lock him in place, arms crossing behind his neck. 

_This_. This is what he’s wanted for so long. To be pressed so close to her he can feel her heartbeat thundering against his chest. To feel her clutching him tight with arms and legs like she can’t bear to be parted from him either. 

The reality of this moment is so much better than all his fevered imaginings. The feel of her lips sliding warm and slick against his; the way she opens for him, letting their tongues tease and tangle. The smell of her, wild and woodsy, filling his nose. The sounds--dear god, the _sounds_ \--the urgent, needy little noises she makes going straight to his cock. 

She breathes heat into him and Percy has never been so happy to burn. And for just a while, he forgets about the chronic chill that seems to have taken up permanent residence in his chest since they arrived in Whitestone--since before that if he’s honest. 

He rocks against her, grinding his erection in the cradle between her thighs, savoring the hitching of her breathing, the noises it teases out of her and he--

_”Something’s happening! Something’s happening in the sky!”_ Scanlan’s voice shrieks through their earrings and they startle back from each other. Panting, they stare at each other with wide eyes as the madness that had apparently taken them both evaporates and the reality of their situation comes crashing back into awareness. 

They have a mansion to search. They have a rebellion to incite and the Briarwoods to face, just on the horizon. And Percy had...he’d--

Oh sweet Pelor, _what has he done_?

Percy all but drops Vex to the floor as he scrambles back, putting much needed distance between them and trying to set his clothing to rights with shaking hands as he does. 

“I--Vex, forgive me, I...” He stutters and trails off. Vex is still partially slumped against the wall, face pale, staring at him with huge eyes and one hand pressed to her mouth in...shock? Disgust? Icy shame floods through him. He opens his mouth again, but nothing comes out. What can he say? What can he _possibly_ say to make this right?

Percy’s beginning to think they might spend the whole night staring at each other in wordless mortification when Keyleth’s voice comes over the earrings, urging them that it might be time to get going. He grabs onto her words like a lifeline. 

“We should--” He gestures helplessly down the hall.

“Search the rooms, yes, I quite agree.” Vex’s words practically spill over each other, voice high and tight, as she straightens hastily, hands twitching nervously at her hair and her clothes. It doesn’t escape his notice how studiously she avoids meeting his eyes. A pang goes through him and he swallows it with bitter resignation. He deserves this pain and he well knows it.

He waits, fidgeting nervously, until she seems satisfied that she’s as put together as can be. By unspoken agreement, they set off together down the hall in silence, keeping a carefully measured distance between them. 

Percy bites his lip and flexes his hands, willing himself not to dwell on the memory of the cool slide of her hair through his fingers or the heat of her mouth under his. 

_You’ve outdone yourself, de Rolo,_ he admonishes himself. _You knew she was not for you, but you couldn’t help yourself, could you? Now she knows. Now she knows exactly what you are and you’ve ruined it all before it could even begin._

He thinks all these things and more as he and Vex work together in painfully polite silence. The litany of vicious recriminations is only interrupted when he spots Vex casting him a probing look from under her lashes in his peripheral vision while he’s rummaging through the drawers of a desk. A thought, knowing and darkly satisfied, eels its way up from the depths, insinuating itself over the latest stream of mental invectives. 

_But she kissed you back._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's be real, this is what we were ALL wishing would happen. The making out part at least. :P

**Author's Note:**

> This prompt straight up _walloped_ me in the id, WELL DONE ANON. I've got this plotted up to ep 64-ish, so buckle up for the long haul, kids! 
> 
> Title (and recommended listening if you want an EXCELLENT Perc'ahlia song) from "Never Look Away" by Vienna Teng.


End file.
